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SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



Songs of My People 



CHARLES BERTRAM JOHNSON 




THE CORNHILL COMPANY 
BOSTON 



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Copyright, 1918, by 
The Cornhill Company 



MAR 22 1919 

©CI. A 5 12775 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Lacrimae Aethiopiae 3 

The Dreamer 5 

Memory < . . . 6 

Serenity 7 

" The Negro Girl " 8 

Negro Poets 9 

Song 11 

. A Rain Song 12 

The Found Star 13 

Now and Then 14 

The Mantle of Dunbar 15 

Ode to Booker Washington .... 19 

A Larger Life 24 

To An Oak 26 

Serenade: A Response 27 

The Cup of Knowledge 28 

A Little Cabin 29 

Making Friends with Baby .... 31 

The Answer 32 

So Much 33 

Humor . . 34 

Spring 1917 35 

On Hearing a Robin at Dawn .... 36 

Spring 37 

My People 38 

In March 39 

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CONTENTS 

PAGE 

September 40 

Breakfast Time 41 

Arbor Singing 42 

Singing at Amen Church 45 

Spring in Callao 47 

Br'er Rabbit's Christmas Trick ... 49 

Called to Preach 52 

Her Christmas Gift 54 

Dreamin' 55 



[vi 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

LACRIMAE AETHIOPIAE 

For Roscoe C. Jamison obit, March 28, 1918, 

The world is ever old and new 
As that fair day the Pinta's prow 

From out the primal ocean drew 

A world to crown a Dreamer's brow. 

New worlds of dream in some far sea 
Of thought await the poet's quest — 

Who knows what may discovered be, 
Wide-eyed, sea faring down the West? 

So his fair soul, our sable Bard, 
Upon the sea of Darkness deep, 

Weighed anchor, sails unfurled, and hard 
Aport, made safe the Harbor sleep. 

Bring hither praise or sigh or tear, 
Let all who can a full-blusht rose, 

Heap all upon his fair young bier, 
His life half -blown no longer blows. 

[3] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

Too soon is hushed his silver speech, 

The music dies upon the lute, 
The cadence falls beyond our reach; 

Too soon the Poet's lips are mute. 

I did not know him as you knew, 
Who heard him speak or held his gaze; 

He was to me a poet true, 

Whose singing subtly thrilled our ways. 

Why reckon what the unlived years 

For his young dreaming soul held store? 

A posy must suffice our tears, 
For never shall he sing us more. 

O singer of the race my own, 

Full well the tardy praise I know; 

Our words before unsaid atone 
Too late to set your heart aglow. 

Perhaps when years a redder glow 
Paint soft into the deep'ning day, 

We, blind ones now, thenceforth shall know, 
Who once withheld the laurel bay, 

Where our green cypress wreaths to lay; 

Tho' song shall have one empty throne, 
But he, who sang in twilight gray, 

Shall come full wreathed into his own. 

[4] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



THE DREAMER 

Like vast nebulae spinning into space 
Scintillant worlds of light, his fine spun dreams 
Are nebulae of thought; no failure seems 
To daunt him nor despair; but calm the face 
He shows the world; if once he wept, no trace 
Of tears appears; but still about him gleams 
With loftiness of soul, a light that streams 
Across our meaner paths and sordid place; 
Like one who walks in mist or dusk is blurred 
He fares among mankind with lofty brow, 
And half of what he dreams is true and wise, 
Tho' indistinct and dim, like music heard 
In sleep; but seldom does our faith allow 
The wisdom of his clearer, subtler eyes. 



[5J 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



MEMORY 

Around each empty nest, 
By subtle memory stirred, 

The wind doth keep astir 

A chirping sadness of the bird. 

Within each empty heart, 
Kin to the Heart above, 

The soul doth keep aflame 
The altar lamp of Love. 



[6] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



SERENITY 

The storms that break and sweep about my feet, 
The winds that blow and tear, the rains that fall, 
Shall not the courage of my soul appall; 
I shall be conqueror, tho' sore defeat 
O'erwhelm the outbound keels of all my fleet 
Of dreams; tho' not one tattered sail, but all 
Go down mid sea; with heart serene, I'll greet 
The worst or best, the stronger for the squall. 

My soul is set amid the storms of life, — 
The hurricanes of passion crash and break 
And tides of heathen hate sweep o'er our land; 
But calm amid the flying ruins of strife, 
Or in the leaping flames around the stake 
With pierced hands — my faith serene, — I stand! 



[7] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



" THE NEGRO GIRL " 

Dark-eyed sun-kisst maid, 
Let thy charms entwine, 
My fond heart around; 
I am slave of thine. 
Tell me thy desire: 
Laurel wreath or fame, 
I am slave of thine, 
Thine to praise or blame. 

Thou art far above 
Evil thought of mine, 
I, with holy love, 
Worship at thy shrine. 

Sun-loved maid, inspire 
Him who sings thee fair; 
In his heart is love 
Worthy of thy care. 



[8 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



NEGRO POETS 

Full many lift and sing 
Their sweet imagining; 
Not yet the Lyric Seer, 
The one bard of the throng, 
With highest gift of song, 
Breaks on our sentient ear. 

Not yet the gifted child, 
With notes, enraptured wild, 
That storm and throng the heart, 
To make his rage our own, 
Our hearts his lyric throne; 
Hard won by cosmic art. 

I hear the sad refrain, 
Of slavery's sorrow-strain; 
The broken half-lispt speech 
Of freedom's twilit hour; 
The greater growing reach 
Of larger latent power. 

Here and there a growing note 
Swells from a conscious throat; 
Thrilled with a message fraught 

[9] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

The pregnant hour is near; 

We wait our Lyric Seer, 

By whom our wills are caught. 

Who makes our cause and wrong 
The motif of his song; 
Who sings our racial good, 
Bestows us honor's place, 
The cosmic brotherhood 
Of genius — not of race. 

Blind Homer, Greek or Jew, 
Of Fame's immortal few 
Would still be deathless born; 
Frail Dunbar, black or white, 
In Fame's eternal light, 
Would shine a Star of Morn. 

An unhorizoned range, 
Our hour of doubt and change, 
Gives song a nightless day. 
Whose pen with pregnant mirth 
Will give our longings birth, 
And point our souls the Way? 



10 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



SONG 

The year has leased to June; 

Twilight and the moon, 

Every gift and boon 

In the sphere of eye and ear, 

In the reach of touch and speech. 

Lilac sweetness of the wood, 

The clover-scented lea, 

Noisy with the bee; 

Rain strings, whence the wind, 

The old harpist by the sea, 

Lures sweet melody. 

In the air, everywhere 

Breathes a vocal prayer; 

Ye who fret and strive 

In your self -filled hive, 

Come with me, hear and see, 

Life in every tree. 

The Master comes along, 

Thousands round him throng, 

Dare the current stem 

You may touch His garment's hem. 



[11] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



A RAIN SONG 

Chill the rain falls, chill ! 
Dull gray the world; the vale 
Rain-swept; wind-swept the hill; 
" But gloom and doubt prevail," 
My heart breaks forth to say. 

Ere thus its sorrow note, 
" Cheer up! Cheer up! to-day! 
To-morrow is to be," 
Babbled from a joyous throat, 
A robin's in a mist-gray tree. 

Then off to keep a tryst — 

He preened his drabbled cloak, — 

Doughty little optimist ! — 

As if in answer, broke 

The sunlight thru that oak. 



12 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



THE FOUND STAR 

I stood in the door of Dawn, — 
My room still deep with the night; 

The ache in my heart was gone, 
Somewhere in the heavens, a light. - 

My star was pulsing to me; 

I searched thru the wide sky-room; 
The cry of my heart to see 

My star in the hour of gloom. 

A thrill in my heart did run, — 

A slender silvering ray, — 
Out in the world the Sun, 

Deep in my room the Day. 



[13 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



NOW AND THEN 

" All life is built from song " 
In youth's young morn I sang; 

And from a top-near hill 
The echo broke and rang. 

The years with pinions swift 

To youth's high noon made flight, 

" All life is built from song " 
I sang amid the fight. 

To life's sun-setting years, 
My feet have come — Alas ! 

And through its hopes and fears 
Again I shall not pass. 

The lusty song my youth 
With high-heart ardor sang 

Is but a tinkling sound — 
A cymbal's empty clang. 

And now I sing, my Dear, 
With wisdom's wiser heart, 

" All life is built from love, 
And song is but a part." 

[14] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



THE MANTLE OF DUNBAR 

Master let a double portion of thy spirit be upon 
me. — II Kings. 

Master Seer! O Singer sweet 
Of lyrics of the lowly race, 

1 kneel in worship at thy feet 
With songs divine enraptured face; 
O Master Bard, who looked on me, 
From thy dim-distant height, 
Soft-kindly eye, fain would I be 
With nearer knee thy purer light. 

But nine fleet years agone, I read 

The major chords in minor tone, 

And, nun-like, since, with rapt-bowed head,. 

I've hearkened to thy voice alone; 

I've watched, like I have waited Spring 

To note the first shy bird's return, 

Each song of joy and love outpouring 

The quick fires on my soul would burn* 



Somewhar, I don't ric-lec' de place, 

I heard dem words you sung, des plain, 

As we is talkin' — face to face; 

Fuh sho' ! 'twas 'roun' ouah fiahside chain, 

[15 1 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

But was you there when dey was said? 
Can't recommember you bein' there; 
Yit 'n' still your face's mos' familyer; 
I'se seed you sho', but can't place whare. 

Oh! yes, you toP dem Dixie tales, 
'N' made us young'n's cry a-laffin' 
Lak we was fit to kill ouahseff; 
'N' then you made us cry in' sad 
Wid dat story 'bout Lucy's deff; 
An' you's de one what sung so sweet 
All dem chunes of Christmas time; 
De banjo's voice an' shufflin' feet. 

I 'member you could change your voice, 
Tell we would think that you had gone, 
An' some one else was in your cheer 
Some one dead way 'fore you was bohn; 
You techt, so light an' tender like, 
The chords of laughter, love and life, 
We clear forgot old keer an' grief 
Was tryin' hard to stir up strife. 

O High Priest of the inner shrine, 
Where Song's High Muse enthroned in state 
Receives her own of lofty brow divine, 
How do I mourn thy early fate ! 
Thou wast the voice of my own soul, 

[16 1 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

My songs arose from thy full heart; 
Since thou before me reached the goal, 
Will then the springs of song depart? 

Too soon, ah, soon! before the harvest moon 

Beneath the cycle falls the grain; 

Too soon, ah soon! the lyric morn is noon, 

And swift declined is dust adown the lane; 

Too soon, ah soon, no mo' de cabin's chune 

With lyric laughter breaks de night! 

Too soon, ah soon! no mo' de banjo's tune 

Will stir ouah feet with fon' delight. 

O Master Bard ! with you agone 
Who'll stir with mighty voice the Race? 
Where, in the ranks of Song's sweet sons 
Is one to fill thy lofty place? 
Oh aching void of voiceless song! 
Oh sunset hour ere morn is sped ! 
On crag and peak a flashing star 
And Song's bright day is lowering red. 

Oh might I dare that prophet-like ! 
As one in soul possessed and rapt, 
Who knew thee heart and soul alike, 
And fought thy cause though oft entrapt 
To hear thee damned with bitter word. 
Until my very heart would burn — 
Blind ignorant ones that knew not thee, 
Condemning what they could not learn. 
[17] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

Often the impotent tears of wrath 

Flowed down my face suffused and red, 

All helpless with a voice too weak 

To strike their senseless chatter dead 

Forever so they could not speak ! 

O Master Bard! O Lyric Soul! 

When in death's whirlwind caught, 

Thy fiery wheels beyond me roll, 

Let thy sweet Spirit that hast me taught 

Vouchsafe me double portion of its gold, 

And loose on me the mantle of thy thought. 



[18] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



ODE TO BOOKER WASHINGTON 

God called from out the dark 
The primal dawn of day; 
On the waters cold and stark 
His spirit held the sway. 
Day and night and firmament, 
Earth, seas and grass and seed, 
Sun, moon and stars, were sent, 
As time foreshadowed need. 
So from the seas life multiplied 
Till air and earth were full supplied. 



And then from out the soulless clay, 
God made, of all creation's day, 
His masterpiece, a man inbreathed 
With God's own soul, crown-wreathed 
With sun and star and day and night, 
And change of seasons in their flight; 
Then over Eden's garden placed 
By love to rule her fairest sod, 
The man was underking to God, 
And under God's immortal law. 
With mate for every kind, God saw 
Him, lone, unmated; nor his kind 
Among Creation's host, and mind 
[19] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

Of God was wrapt in vision's thought, 
Then on the man a deep sleep wrought, 
And from his side a true rib tore, 
And woman made — man's mate and more. 

And they were happy, till their sin 

Against the law sent man and wife 

From Eden's peace to world-wide strife. 

For Eden's loss God gave return: 

Thus to the erring creatures said, 

" The earth's thy home, therein shall earn 

In sweat of brow thy daily bread." 

O precious gift! 

The soil, man's mother-friend, 

Doth still uplift! 

The best God gave at Eden's end, 

The first great breast that nursed man's youth, 

The secret holds of God's creative Truth. 

The world moved on 

To some far-reaching plan; 

Great issues rose, 

God met them with a man; 

In every age of crucial change, 

The world had need of supermen: 

Anointed ones, with sun-crowned range : 

Meek Moses, step by step, faith-led 
From Egypt's osiered fen, 
f 20 1 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

Unscathed by subtle lure, 
Mind, heart and conscience pure, 
With racial entity secure, 
Was then God sent to learn, 
Out under Midian sky, 
Upon life's vital turn, 
God keeps a sleepless eye. 

Time sped, and then, 

Earth steeped in sin, 

A Christ from God, 

God come to earth 

To give men's souls rebirth; 

Again from Dark God called the Light, 

The Day began where ended Night. 

A more abundant ray 

Poured down upon the way; 

Truth set her frontiers far 

Beyond the utmost distant star. 

The world moved on 
To newer dawn; 
The needs today 
Unfold the way; 
God fits into the breech 
A Lincoln, by no pattern wrought, — 
God is not left to one old plan, 
But ever has new modes of thought, 
And for each issue molds the man. 
[21] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

So from the virgin new-world clay, 
A freeman made to make men free; 
God's own design is still God's way, 
And freedom grows through liberty. 

And time wheeled flight 

Through day and night, 

And then our leader saw the way, 

Virginia's second Washington — 

With Knowledge that her soil bore one, 

From new-world loam and old-world clay 

God wrought this superman; 

He added to the Sax alloy 

The patience of the African. 

Out of what burning tree 

God spoke unto his soul? 

" True toil must set thy people free." 

The soil that gave man's soul rebirth, 

Whatever other source was worth, 

Has been, is now, his mother-friend. 

Tuskegee's clear idea 
Assures the race a panacea; 
Washington's wizardry — 
In words and deeds anent 
The Negro's highest needs : 
A hand full-skilled is tool 
Keen-edged — has built a monument: 
Trade's world-unrivalled school. 

[22] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

The Prophet's word is clear: 
No vision or a seer, 
The people perish and 
Deep night is near. 
Great vision with great faith, 
A man may talk with God, 
'Tis soul illuminates the clod; 
Fresh from Faith's Sinaid peak, 
Men, wisdom's message speak. 

No life, however great, 
Out scales the breath of hate, 
Down in the valley 'mid the crowd 
Are lesser men 
Without the vision's ken, 
Heard not the Voice, saw but the cloud. 
So thus their doubt and sin. 
Too great with God to prate with men, 
Great Washington spoke clear and true, 
His faith touched Heaven's very Son, 
His love connected me and you, 
So he, and you and I, and God, and Christ are 
One. 



[23] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



A LARGER LIFE 

Give Hie a heart made brave and strong, 
A life lived sweet in sorrow's hour, 
A living Faith serene in song, 
And noble love's diviner power; 
Let smiles break swift on frown or tears, 
And peace be happy dove in strife; 
I have but once to live my years, 
'T were good I live a larger life. 

Give me sweet faith in other men; 
My life is stronger when I trust; 
I wish to love them, tho' they sin, 
And help them live, because I must. 
My life is bound at every turn 
In common interest with the good 
Of other lives; and tho' I yearn 
For trust I'll give the trust I should. 

I wish to grow in mind and heart, 
To live each day on thought's high plain 
Full conscious of life's nobler part — 
Full conscious of life's highest gain; 
So live today tomorrow's sun 
Will rise in glory's crown arrayed, 
Upon no duty left undone, 
Or sacrifice I should have made. 
[24 1 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

Each day is link in life's long chain, 
And weak or strong as we shall live; 
The whole's not stronger 'neath the strain, 
Than strength the weakest link can give, 
Each day I'll live as tho' my last, 
As tho' before me was unrolled 
The future, present and the past — 
My whole life's good upon a scroll. 

And writ in gold my days of good, 

Tho' blank the leaves of idle years, 

I oft may read in solitude 

How much was wrought by contrite fears — 

How much by sincere sympathies — 

The crust I shared, the trust I gave, 

The hope inspired — felicities 

That made a sad heart light and brave. 

I shall not live a mussel-shell; 

My heart shut fast against the world; 

Nor live where others can not dwell, 

Ensphered too high above the whirl, 

And busy life of men who toil; 

But close where break the cries of strife — - 

Some lower plain anear the soil — 

I'll live out full a larger life. 



[25] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



TO AN OAK 

O Oak ! long years the stress of storm and wind 
Has made thy limbs exult in growing thew; 
And deeper, surer in the earth descend 
The thousand tendrils that were strengthening 

you; 
With best of sun and song and rain and dew 
High on the hill thy strength, tho* storm and wind 
Oft did thy tender thewless youth unbend; 
But greater thou in limb and power grew. 
O mighty oak ! with faith serene and sure, 
Impart to me the secret of thy girth, 
Invest me master of thy patient will; 
That through the coming years I may endure, 
And deeper rooted in the fields of earth, 
At last, as thou, be sovereign of a hill. 



[26] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



SERENADE: A RESPONSE 

I set in de window, oh, love, so sweet, 

Whah de moon streams lak a silveh sea, 
Yo' guitah thrills to ma heart's wile beat, 

De music steals lak a dream on me — 
Lak a dream o' love, so sweet an' true 

De birds croon sof in dey eave-hid nes\ 
De crickets chirp in de grass an' dew 

Since de sun sunk down in de rosi'd Wes'. 

You's there, sweet one, in de dusk an' de dahk, 
Yo' song streams bright, lak an' evenin' light, 

When de fields throb wile wid de lahk. 
O minstrel prince ! I heah yo sweet song, 

Stealin' lak morn to ma vine-hid bower, 

De music 'n' rapchure 'n' love in de throng, 
Des stream on my heart wid magic power. 

Sing on, sweet prince, I bid you sing, 

Strack out de music, rich an' puoh 
Lak de honey-drippin' song in spring, 

When de daisies an' roses blow. 
Sing on, tell de moonlight in yo' song 

Melts lak twilight into day — 
Whatever you sing, ef sweet an' long, 

Ma heart rewards to hearken alway. 
[27] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



THE CUP OF KNOWLEDGE 

They brought me, tempting-red, Life's richest 

wine, 
The mad thirst four hundred years did create, 
My soul was maddened with desire to sate, 
At one draught, deep-drawn, vital and divine; 
I lifted with passionate haste and nigh, 
The Cup of Knowledge to my famished lips, 
Like hungry flames unchecked in stubble dry, 
Athrough my veins red riot to the tips. 
The aeons that my soul, like smothered flames, 
Burned with fierce ardor wild and was restrained, 
My soul in silence cherished mighty aims, 
And longed to tread in fields then unattained; 
At last enfreed I stood in manhood's peace 
Full conscious of my soul's divine release. 



28 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



A LITTLE CABIN 

Des a little cabin 

Big ernuff fur two, 

Des awaitin', honey, 

Cozy fixt fur you; 

Down dah by de road, 

Not ve'y far from town, 

Waitin' fur de missis, 

When she's ready to come down, 

Des a little cabin, 
An' er acre o' groun' 
Vines agrowin' on it, 
Fruit trees all aroun', 
Holly hawks abloomin' 
In de gyahden plot — 
Honey, would you like to 
Own dat little spot? 

Make dat little cabin 
Cheery, clean an' bright, 
With an' angel in it 
Like a ray of light? 
Make dat little palace 
Somethin' fine an' gran', 
Make it like an Eden, 
Fur a lonely man? 

[29] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

Des you listen, Honey, 
While I 'splain it all, 
How some lady's go'nter 
Boss dat little hall; 
Des you take my han' 
Dat's de way it's writ, 
Des you take my heart, 
Dat's de deed to it. 



[30] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



MAKING FRIENDS WITH BABY 

I came upon him first chance he was awake, 
Still in his cradle, calm as a windless lake; 
A sunbeam, thread-like, played over his face. 
To prove him my friendship his fears to displace » 
I tickled his chin — now think you he smiled? 
Well, no! His eyes gleamed with startled look 

wild, 
His lips curled warningly — primped up to cry, 
A tear started, fawn-like, flashed in his eye; 
I whistled and cooed and prattled baby-speech, 
Made queer faces, grimaces quite in the reach 
Of his little round pudgy ball of a fist, 
All doubled up hard at the end of his wrist; 
I stuck out my chin quite pointed and near. 
Ere 'ware of his intent, he landed right here 
(On my nose.) So quick his blow, so funny the 

end, 
We both laughed out — that made him my friend. 



[31] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



THE ANSWER 

What I question of night and the day, 

The stars will not answer, 

The winds will not say; 
What I question the brook and the dell, 

The waves only murmur, 

The trees will not tell. 

So I wander and question them still; 

All unanswered my cry 

Comes back from the hill, 
Where are the flowers, the birds and bees, 

The winds that rippled and romped 

Through the wheat and the trees? 

Where are the mornings the sun made glad, 

Full with his brimming face? 

Why all today so sad? 
Only the leaves reply, and over her bed 

The night- wind rose and bade : 

Requiem sung for the dead. 



32] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



SO MUCH 

So much of love I need, 
And tender passioned care, 

Of human fault and greed 
To make me unaware. 

So much of love I owe, 
That ere my life be done, 

How shall I keep His will 
To owe not any one? 



[33 1 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



HUMOR 

We have fashioned laughter 
Out of tears and pain, 

But the moment after, 
Pain and tears again. 



[34 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



SPRING 1917 

My ear aground 
I hear a sound 
Far off! 

At last comes spring! 
No robins fling 
Aloft 

The old-new tale 
To hill and vale; 
In factory, mart 
And war- wrought art, 
My people throng 
With northward song. 



[35] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



ON HEARING A ROBIN AT EARLY DAWN 

Whether skies be blue or dusk, 
Thy matins pierce the twilight grey; 
In the sleep-encumbered world 
Thou dost devotions pay. 
Clean-washed with fresh-born wind, 
Thy notes impulsive throng, 
And at the day's beginning task, 
Thou startest it with song. 



[36] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



SPRING 

I look beyond my casement where, the snow, 
The last March wind in hedge and fence had piled; 
A wraith of winter days in faint wind-row, 
Lies white and cold, I hear soft waters wild 
By warm winds stirred; a knee-deep's call and 

plain 
From yonder marsh or pond breaks on my ear, 
But surer faith, O Heart ! adown the lane 
A blue-throat's slender-carolled notes, I hear 
Of Spring's return. I throw off pain and doubt 
With that slim warbled lay; back to my heart 
The tides of song return; within, without, 
In tree or bush or marsh or pond, with swelling 

start, 
O Spring! the children of thy fancy free 
Unloose the magic of thy minstrelsy. 



[37] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



MY PEOPLE 

My people laugh and sing, 
And dance to death, — 

None imagining 

The heartbreak under breath. 



[38] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



IN MARCH 

The last chill wind brought snow and ice and sleet; 
Like Christmas trees, a dawn from Christmas 

night, 
The forests were a wraith of silvern white; 
At morn the sun burst full with glimmering heat, 
The south wind waft across the greening wheat, 
A robin's note to cheer my heart's dim night; 
Borne back to answer him, my soul's first flight, 
This tribute to his vernal song's high beat: 
"O High of heart! divinest spirit's form 
Didst thou from Hope's high minaret foresee 
Wild March with sheeted icy hands of storm 
Would wake the trees and set the sap life free? 
The faith of thy frail song insistent, clear, 
Tho' faltering notes, hath made the day less 

drear." 



[39 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



SEPTEMBER 

The bumble-bee, too full with sweets, 
Falls from the flower and futile beats 
The heavy air with swooning wings, — 
The while a drowsy song he sings. 



[40] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



BREAKFAST TIME 

When de dishes rattle, 
Like a passel o' cattle, 
Tumblin' out o' bed 
Heels plum over head, 
Scramblin' to de table 
Fas' as dey is able. 

When dey's somethin' t' eat, 
Chillen can't be beat 
Skinnin' in dey clo'es, 
Washin' mouf an' nose, 
Scrougin' to dey places 
With dey half -dry faces. 

Rastus, see yo' face : 
It's a plum disgrace, 
You jus' smeared it worse 
Than it were at firs', 
Now, you git dat pan 
'N' wash dat face ag'an. 

Blessin' words too slow, 
Dey is anxious, sho, 
Rattlin' forks an' knives — 
Mercy sakes alives ! 
Fur to eat yo' bite 
Can't you wait a mite? 

[41] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



ARBOR SINGING 

Walls too crampy an' too narrer, 
W'y, you can't unloose yo' seff, 
Speshly if you lack yo' singin', 
Sweet ernuff to take yo' breff; 
Dey ain't no place can beat it — 
Church er chapel, barrin' none, 
Lack an' arbeh in de valley, 
Whah de ol' time singin's done. 

Let de win' be sof'ly sighin' 
Thoo de leaves above yo' haid, 
An' de brook a babblin' lowly, 
Whah de willers make a shade; 
Let de crickets be a muhmuhrin' 
In de cloveh damp wid dew, 
An' all de choirs of nacher 
Be a jinin' in wid you. 

Den let an' ol' time preacheh, 
Dat knows de Scripsheh kneel 
Takin' up de cross in pr'ar, — 
If you anxious fur to feel, 
Lack you's high on Zion's hill, 
Way away from pain an' keer, 
You jus' listen an' keep still, 
Fur you's cert'ly gwine to hear. 

[42] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

How de keers an' ills an' aches 
Tear to lif ' dey wings an' fly, 
An* visions of de fucher 
Is a flitterin' foh yo' eye; 
It seems to me dat nacher 
Is frien'lier if you's near, 
'N' de music of de singin' 
Jus' drives away yo' fear. 

If you want to heah de golden 
Gates of heben swing ajar, 
Jus' let de congregation kneel, 
An' sof 'ly sing in pr'ar. 
De singin' seems to melt 'n' rise 
In de sweetes' liquid choon, 
Yo' keers an' aches an' sorrer 
Is boun' to lebe you soon. 

Ain't no tonic dat can heal 
All de ills dat shorten breath, 
Ain't no balm discivered yit 
Dat kin draw de sting of death, 
But if you wants a moment 
Free o' ills an' pains an' care, 
Jus' you kneel beneaf an' arbeh, 
An' sof 'ly sing in prayer. 

De place 'n' singin' jus' ain't all, 
Dat sets yo' heart abeat, 
But de sof 'ly cadenced fall 
Of Jenny's voice so sweet; 

[43] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

'Cause you knows she's happy, 
When you stood up askin' pr'ar, 
You's made a start toward heben, 
An' she wants to meet you there. 

You's been a feller sort o' ruff, 
Lack boys mos' allways be, 
At de core yo' heart is soun', 
You ain't certain dat it's free, 
Now you's thinkin' dat it's time, 
Fur His grace to have its turn, 
You's gwine to 'cept His mercy, 
If 'twill knit yo' soul an' her'n. 



44] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



SINGING AT AMEN CHURCH 

They's some thin' sort o' holy 
Goes abeatin' thru my heart, 
Tho I's feehV blue an' po'ly, 
I can sense the joy-rush start; 
They's a warm flash stealin', too, 
From my feet up to my hair, — 
It's Sunday, an' they's singin', 
Like they's sendin' up a prayer, — 

In the church across the street, 
Now, the buildin's nothin' smart, 
Where the cullud folkses meet, 
They's got 'ligion of the heart; 
An', somehow, in the singin', 
The notes keep pourin' out, 
An' yo' soul, it gits to ringin' 
Tell you's boun' to gin a shout. 

Co'se, dey 'ligion ain't no better, 
'Cause dey likes to sing 'n' shout it; 
But I ruther 'joys the kind, 
When you makes to do about it. 
I heerd a brotheh tellin', 
Dat he's livin' in the way, 
He 'spects the Lawd to fin' 'em 
On the blessed Jedgmen' Day. 
[45] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

It 'curs to me dat form an* style 

Ain't squenched out all the fiah, 
An* the singin' in dat church 

Is de kind in Heben's quiah. 
I set here lis'nin' to 'em, 

Tell, thinks I, me it won't supprise, 
Dey'll sho be shoutin', honey, 

Wid dat singin' in the skies. 



46] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



SPRING IN CALLAO 

Is de grass a growin' up 
Kind o' 'umble here an' there — 
Patch o' green amid de grey 
In de warm an' sunny air? 
Are de old heads settin' roun' 
Stretchin' happy in de sun? 
Den de spring is sholy come, 
An' de wintertime is done. 

Are de boys a playin' keeps 
Gaily in de dryin' street, 
01' foks gazin' wis'ful on, 
Seem' who is gwine to beat? 
Tho de robins whistles peart, 
But de shoest sign I know, 
When de kids are playin' keeps,. 
Dat de spring is at de doah. 

Are oF comrades swoppin' tales 
'Bout de wars dey's fit an' fit? 
Does de town liar keep on tap 
Bigger tales than Twain has writ?* 
An' it's hoss shoe pitchin' time; 
Sandy can't be beat, I know, 
Pshaw ! pitchin' 'gin dat feller, 
You ain't gwine to stan' no sho'. 

[47] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

Chillen comin' down de street, 
When de hours in school is done, 
Make de welkin shout an' ring 
With dey innercence an' fun. 
Gee ! my heart yearns, 'cause I know, 
When de blue bird 'mence to sing, 
Dat de kids are playin' keeps, 
An' in Callao it's spring. 

Like to be back there in spring, 
Take de path my feet bes' know, 
An' slip off adown de track, 
Where de first spring flowers grow; 
Stroll off into field an' wood, 
There where de creek is streamin' ; 
Mercy! am I wake or sleep? 
Sho! I must be dreamin'. 



[48] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



BR'ER RABBIT'S CHRISTMAS TRICK 

Daddy knows a whole lot o' tales; 

An' some would make you laff yohseff 
Ontell yoh sides would ache an' split, 

An' yoh lungs were clear out o' breff . 
He toP de very funniest tale 

'Bout how Br'er Rabbit's tail was los'. 
An' how dat wise oP Misteh Fox 

Become Br'er Rabbit's ridin' hoss. 

He toP how Br'er Wolf an' Br'er Bah 

Once give a great big Chris 'mus tree, 
Away down in Possum Holler, 

Ast all de critters dah to be; 
An' Br'er Rabbit was de very man 

To write de names an' 'range each thing 
Upon de critters' Chris 'mus tree, 

De way it orter hang an' swing. 

Den de critter brung dey presents, 

An' Br'er Rabbit, hard at work, 
Was writin' names an' hangin' gifts 

As busy as a 'lectshun clerk. 
All day de critters fotched an' brung, 

De very mos' dat dey could tote, 
An' Br'er Rabbit wropt an' hung, 

An' Br'er Rabbit writ an' wrote. 
[49] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

When de tree an' ev'rything was done, 

De Chris 'mus bells began to chime, 
From dell an' creek an' hole an' nes' 

De critters came on C. P. time. 
At de time appinted, Br'er Bah 

Called out de presents from de tree, 
An' Br'er Wolf he carried 'em roun', 

As quickly as his eyes could see. 

De very first — a cabbage fine 

Was enscribed wid Br'er Rabbit's name; 
De next, a pound o' butter, too, 

How odd! was markt de very same; 
An' all de gif's Br'er Bah took down, 

I sho' declah, upon my life, 
Was for Br'er Rabbit an' his kin, 

Or else was for Br'er Rabbit's wife. 

At first de critters tried to grin, 

An' laff it off as bein' fun; 
But when Br'er Rabbit an' his kin 

Got all de presents eb'ry one — 
Dem smilin' looks begun to fade, 

De feelin's sho' were high an' free; 
Br'er Lynx he cut a grapevine rope 

To lynch 'im on dat Chris'mus tree. 

Dey formed a mob an' made a plan; 

An' Br'er Lynx, who made de start, 
Dey chosen leader of de ban'. 

An' each one swo' to do his part; 

[50] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

Dey searched de woods an' Ian' all thoo; 

But Br'er Rabbit showed his wit 
Him, his wife an' kin an' — presents ! 

Were nowheres to be found in it. 



[51] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



CALLED TO PREACH 

I's got 'ligion — yes 'ndeed, 

Knows I's got it sho, 

My clothes done change, an' now 

Dey's white as Chris'mas snow; 

Dese ain't rags I's wearin', 

Dis is a Prince Albert coat, 

When I got my 'ligion 

Jedge Gray gimme dis to tote. 

Ain't it black an' slick? 
Got two tails behin', 
Jus' de very kin' o' trick 
Wishin' dat was mine. 
Don't it hang down fine? 
Spec's I'll turn out preacher, 
A great big one like Sturgeon, 
Or sich er one like Beecher. 

I'se been called to preach, 
Ca'se my 'ligion has been tried, 
Comin' thoo a fieP las' night, 
What you reckon dat I spied? 
A great big striped wateh millun, 
No moon, no chance gittin' caught, 
Shet my eyes an' went straight on, 
Like a preacher ought. 

[52] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 

Went pas' farmer Jones' gate, 
Spied a pullet slick an' fine, 
Out a pickin' kind o' late, 
Had to say a Scripsher line 
To keep myself from sin, 
My han's tuck a cur'us feelin', 
Like dey's takin' somethin' in, 
Barely kep's myself f'om stealin*. 

But dat chicken knew 
I'd been called to preach, 
When I wus a sinneh, 
He wouldn' sot dah in my reach; 
Dey'd seem to know my step, 
An' begin to run an' squawk, 
An' take out fur de house 
Jus' like dey's seen a hawk. 

Got home feelin' blue an' sick, 
Mammy 'd set right nigh 
A jemmy John ha'f full, — 
De fines' oP Kaintucky rye; 
E't my suppeh, didn' tech a drap, 
Settin' right there in my reach, 
Dat's de reason why I knows, 
I's been lectioneer'd to preach. 



53 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



HER CHRISTMAS GIFT 

Ketched Mis' Lucy's Chris'mas gif! 
G'way man ! Ef I'd tell you, 
Folks when dey pass would smile, 
Bekaze dey'd know it too. 
Now you nee'n' to promise, 
Ner cross yo' breast — no art 
Is gwine to git de secret 
Locked up in my heart. 

'Cause she made me promise 
On oath I wouldn' tell; 
But she sho' looked putty, 
An' huh lips wus sweet — Well ! 
I s'pose I nee'n' to hint, 
But little more'n dis, 
Fur you know already, 
Dat it was a kiss. 

An' I made huh promise, 
Befoh nex' Chris'mas Day, 
Dat she'd say de words 
I'd be askin' huh to say, 
I want de days to hurry, 
De weeks to fly way swif ', 
Fur I's gwine to git nex' year, 
A biggeh Chris'mas gif. 
[54] 



SONGS OF MY PEOPLE 



DREAMIN' 

I set a dreamin' boy wus here, 
Jus' like befoh he mahched erway; 
He made the oP pianner ring, 
Gran' like the way he use to play. 

So real it seem to 'pear to me, 
I heered 'im as he use to do, 
Countin' dem dots — " one, two, three " 
Till, thinks I, maybe it is true. 

Jus' 's I's fixin' to go an' see, 
I seed 'im in de do' so still, 
Smilin', like 'e use to smile at me, 
When a chile 'e use to be so ill. 

My heart wus flutt'rin' in my mouf, 
Couldn' b'leeve my eyes er whut it seem, 
I riz to take 'im in my hungry arms, 
'N' 'en I woke 'twus only jus' a dream. 



55 



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